


Less Than

by KarboniteManeuver



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Day 5, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Snark, cockworship, non-con, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 17:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarboniteManeuver/pseuds/KarboniteManeuver
Summary: Day Five: Cock WorshipKimblee has never once been accused of not being an arrogant, conniving bastard.





	Less Than

He had hardly expected such a pleasant surprise to turn up in tracking The Fullmetal Alchemist so far north. 

Certainly even there he’d been met with those who knew of his ‘atrocities’, their heads forced down by the security clearance that allowed him to walk mostly unattended throughout their fort. Their disgust, condescension and unease were a familiar, but heady combo and it was hard to keep the smile off of his face as he stood in their presence. That Armstrong introduced him to the crowd, standing beside her on the pedestal, as though an equal, as pomp and circumstance required, was most assuredly enough to rankle in and of itself. 

However, it was his liaison that was currently his highest point of interest. The man towered above him, thick with dense muscle, his tanned skin a rarity in these parts— he’d have been lying to himself if he were to have said it hadn’t gone straight to his cock.

The other man’s attempt at a power play in the hallway, however… Removing his glasses, revealing the truth of his Ishvalan features… it took everything Kimblee had to maintain his composure. 

The man, Miles, was it? Had most assuredly used it as a warning, to keep their unwanted guest in line during his time at the fort, after all, Ishvalans were hardly viewed as being anything above animals, weren’t they? 

The propaganda that had been spread through Central, from the Fuhrer’s mouth straight to the ear, to the pulse of the masses had worked so well. Maintain control, assuage the concerns of the populous, that ‘we’ had won, that it was only through the loving protections of their makeshift father, Fuhrer Bradley, of his military, and the bravery of their soldiers that they had bested such a despicable foe. He couldn’t help but smile at the mere concept. Us versus them, as always, wasn’t it? All it took was capitalizing on their fears, writing them a script for ‘what would happen’ and they came, clawing their way under the protection of someone perceived to be stronger, someone to lead them to safety.

It hadn’t been long before he had called Miles to his room. After all, wasn’t it the purpose of a liaison to guide him? He was sure that his request had grated on the other man, his voice gruff over the phone, but he also knew that duty was stronger than the man’s personal distaste and that with the prospect of being censured, dragging his feet, Miles would show up. 

Kimblee leaned back in the chair, not exactly plush— but utilitarian, comfortable enough, but not so much so as to actively encourage wasting time— so much like Armstrong herself. He raised the tea cup to his mouth, the steam a precious warmth against pale and miraculously still shower warm cheeks. He hadn’t yet acclimated to the drop in temperature, it ached through his bones, as though seeping into the very core of him. He doubted it was something that he would be able to adjust in what he had hoped would be a short duration of a trip. After all, there were other things on his agenda, to follow Full Metal, assuredly, but the young man was just a means to an end. It was only a matter of time before he slipped up, inadvertently letting precious intel slip as to the location of his ‘friends’.

The frigid temperatures bled into everything, his own skin felt like porcelain, just moments from shattering. He had to count his blessings that the showers got as hot as they did. Though even swathed in the confines of the thick cotton robe, the tea cup scalding beneath his fingertips, the freeze was already slowly beginning to set in.

There was a quiet, but impatient knock at the door. His lips curved as he replaced the cup on the table delicately, the steam still rising gently, tantalizingly from its surface. His hands reached the chill copper of the knob, twisting to pull the deceptively heavy door back towards himself, involuntarily smirking appreciatively up at the other man.

“Please, come in.”

Even beneath his glasses, it wasn’t hard to see that Kimblee’s state of undress had touched a nerve. To a man so confined within a world of orders, to do something so blatant of a disrespect as to call on him, an undesired order in its own right, and be anything other than ready to go was out of the question.

Miles’s eyes narrowed down at the shorter man, but he said nothing. A well trained dog, wasn’t he? The larger man stepped past the threshold, allowing the door to close behind him with an echo of finality.

“I would ask if you knew why I called you here today, but I won’t flatter myself in making the assumption that this is anything more than duty to you. That said, let’s begin.”

Kimblee let the robe fall, first to exposure the pale flesh of his shoulders, collarbones jutting forth beneath thin skin, a mocking of modesty. He was far from inexperienced, and though he had been maintained within solitary confinement, never granted the use his hands given the stakes, it wasn’t as though his humiliation hadn’t been a prize to be won amongst the other inmates, or the guards. His body had been trained, beyond just the casual liaisons that he had kept within the military ranks themselves, but to tolerate, to willingly accept and get off on the harshest of treatments. After all, one had to pass the time, and what better way than to grate on the nerves of the others, to drag them to the edge of their sanity?

He allowed the robe to open further, falling away completely. He stared up at Miles, his head tilted slightly to the side, smile lopsided as his eyes had daringly moved upwards. 

“Do I have to order your hospitality, or will you come willingly?” 

The words had the other man’s eyes narrowing in disgust, written plainly across his unconventionally attractive features. However he remained still, not moving, unwilling to be baited, even as Kimblee took a step forward, closing the distance between them. How far would he be able to push? It had always been a talent of his, afterall. 

His hands rose, the transmutation circles evident for only for a moment, before his fingers dug into the thick, woolen military grade overcoat. 

“You better be careful… I’ve heard that I can be hard to handle,” His breath came out, hot against Miles’s neck, already too far within the comfort zone that the other man kept others well outside of. 

Kimblee’s fingers drug down his chest, collecting the requisite buttons of the standard issue peacoat, undoing them with practiced ease. Miles’ hands came up, calloused and firm, grasping the other man’s within his own, wringing Kimblee’s tightly to release his property. 

“It would be in your best interests to quit while you’re ahead.” 

Kimblee tilted his head, the smile playing across his lips venomous. To give up now, would be the worst kind of mockery of his own character. 

“If you’ve heard anything about me, and given your… background, it’s unlikely that you haven’t, you should know both that I have the clearance at act in my own best interests, but also that no one will miss another Ishvalan dog… regardless of rank.” 

Miles closed his eyes momentarily, collecting himself. He wasn’t the type to be pushed into action, his self-control a requisite long since established under the Major General. The man’s reputation had preceded him, the blood on his hands something tangible, dripping into the very heart of Central, an echo of the well known corruption amongst the higher ranks. His release alone was proof enough, the arrogance of his behavior hardly that of a changed man, still a threat beneath a now polished veneer. 

“That’s what I thought.” Kimblee let out the smallest chuckle, too ambitious to lose on collecting his prize, undaunted. 

He pushed the thick jacket back with ease, running fingers down the matching navy colored shirt beneath as he moved down to his knees. He palmed the other man through his pants, Miles’ disinterest more than apparent. While less than flattering, it also wasn’t a surprise. However, he had worked with less in the past and still succeeded in getting what he’d wanted. 

“Well now… This won’t do.” His gaze shifted up, the edge of harsh red eyes staring down at him in detest, beneath the rims of his glasses. 

Kimblee made quick work of the button of the other man’s fatigues, the zipper undone without second thought. Central was very specific in its dress code, down to the simple white undershirt, down to the plain white briefs that each soldier was given and expected to wear without fail. It was unsurprising that as yet another precious dog of the military, that Miles had fallen in line in this aspect as well. 

Cool hands slid within the confines of the undergarments, freeing Miles’s length. How much would it take for him to give in? How far would he have to push him for irritation to lead way to something more, to something worse? 

His hand slid the length of the man, stalwart within his grip, his flesh warm-- used to the frigid temperatures despite the climate of his birth place. Tentatively Kimblee met his gaze once more, leaning forward to close his mouth against the tip of Miles’ now only and begrudgingly half flaccid cock. His tongue worked against him, his mouth already hot and greedy, as if he hadn’t been thinking about this moment since their minor altercation in the hallway. This however, cracking a pearl, would require just a bit of patience on his part, not that something so trivial was going to daunt his spirits. Afterall, would it be as worth it if the man came as willingly as so many of his exploits in the past? So many precocious juniors, trying to win petty favors by getting on his good side, as if their fledgling affections would ever come close to appeasing his interests.

He shifted, his lips mouthing along one side of the man’s shaft, allowing his tongue to trace the way back to his tip as he took Miles further into his mouth with practiced ease. 

He managed to catch just the flicker of it, the other man’s eyes closing for just an instant, eyebrows pitching in irritation that something like this would cause him to react against his own will. Kimblee pulled back, smirking up at him, his lips naught more than a thin, callous line. 

“I won’t offer some trite comment about your appearance, that it’s out of place, that you stand out amongst your comrades, an eternal tan that more than hints of your homeland, but you should know by now that it isn’t something that is going to put me off.” 

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

Kimblee’s smile grew, a thin slit wide across his lips, one that had grated on so many, much to his own personal pleasure. 

“My, my. No need to be rude. My interest is one of appreciation after all.” The cadence of his voice sugared, as though to assuage if one was able to ignore the serpentine edge to it. 

“I’ve been thinking of this since you first revealed yourself to me, thinking of your body, your coloring, how gorgeous your cock would look filled with blood, standing, straining to attention. I must admit you haven’t disappointed, though I believe you have a bit further to go still.” 

Miles expression contorted into something between offense and disgust. It was unlikely anyone had ever spoken to him with such silken easy, especially a stranger, already unwelcome within the heart of the fort. 

“We don’t exist to satisfy whatever sick fetish you cultivated on the battlefield while you were massacring my people” His words were harsh, coming through gritted teeth as though it would somehow be enough to dissuade the other man after he’d gone so far to set up such a petty farce, merely an excuse to be on his knees before him.

Without warning Kimblee took him in deep, the head of Miles’ cock brushing against the back of his throat, then let out a breath and took him deeper. He could feel, more than see, the man’s hand clench into a fist firmly against the door. His back leaning into it for support. The honesty of a body was dependable and after all it was important to take pleasure in the small victories. 

Without giving him any chance to adjust, Kimblee moved, fucking his own mouth on Miles’ now fully erect cock. How far could he go, how much could he needle before he pushed the other into lust, or perhaps fury. Either way, like the namesake that he had earned and so cherished, it was just another reaction-- chemicals at and of war, each with the next beautiful consequence.

He pulled back, tongue tracing him, base to head as he sucked at the tip, tongue slipping against the slit at the precome that had come forth despite Miles’ best wishes. That was always the joy of the involuntary, of a body responding to attention, even as the mind resisted. 

“Now now, you needn’t be so stalwart about this whole affair. I’m here because I want to be, even if you’re not. How long has it been since someone has sat before you, mouth around your cock, wanting to tell you how beautiful you look?” He chuckled low in his throat, nipping at the bare flesh before him as if to prove his point. 

Miles eyes merely narrowed, whether he was unable to think of a reply or simply unwilling to indulge Kimblee further, ultimately it didn’t matter, as long as he complied. Would it be too out of the question to request of court martial if he didn’t? Perhaps a threat to tuck away for later... 

“I want you to take your glasses off. Even if it’s out of something so petty as hatred, I want to see your eyes as I inevitably make you come. You must understand that though I indulged in the taste of flesh amongst your people, even the corpses as they lay, forgotten and unmourned--” 

Miles gripped the back of Kimblee’s head, bringing him down on his cock cruelly, not giving him a moment to let another word out as he pushed himself in as deep as he could, pulling out only shallowly before forcing himself deeper back in. 

“You just don’t know when to stop, do you?” His cheeks colored in fury, his fingers too tight in Kimblee’s hair, weaved to the scalp as he used the mouth before him without granting him a second thought. 

Everything reciprocal, the man’s fingers gripped tight into the backs of Miles’ thighs. The fabric of the fatigues was thick, but not enough to fully null the bite of it. He compensated for the length within his mouth, far from sole pliance as he helped Miles get as deeply as he wanted, as he let him thrust viciously into him. 

Miles could feel the pressure building within him, and pulled back, disgust still etched firmly into his features as Kimblee’s eyes met his own narrowed in triumph. 

“What? Do you need me to say more? Or should I let you bend me over the desk and really get out your frustrations? Afterall, as long as the opportunity stands…” 

Miles hand gripped his own cock, pulling it to the side as he let it release, a wet slap as it hit firmly against Kimblee’s cheek. 

“Make yourself useful before I change my mind.” The man’s voice came out in low growl, other hand moving up to remove the glasses, despite his better judgement. 

A bellicose smirk slid back onto Kimblee’s features, hand gently touching where Miles’ cock had hit him, “Those gorgeous eyes, even in detest-- a full cock before me… This isn’t something I’ll soon forget, Major.” 

The man gave a sharp tug against the base of Kimblee’s scalp, and without further prompting the man’s mouth enclosed around him once more, gently dragging his teeth from base to tip, returning, matching the movement instead with the suction of his tongue. 

Miles pulled against him, urging him forward none too gently, beyond the point of amusement with the other man’s antics. He shoved himself as far as he could, working himself with Kimblee’s lax mouth, the man now allowing himself to be used without being able to get out any further repugnant commentary. 

He closed his eyes, head tilted back, his hips moving on their own accord as Kimblee’s grip tightened on him, urging him ever deeper. The pressure was building too much, too quickly and he was too close to be having anymore stupid arguments with the disgusting son of a bitch below him, on his knees where he so clearly belonged. 

Despite his better judgement, Miles pulled back, grabbing Kimblee’s hair to drag him backwards, off of him. His other hand moved quickly, grabbing his cock, allowing himself guidance to shoot across the man’s face, glaring down at him, as the other man’s breath escaped in a husky moan. Miles worked the last of himself to completion, letting the final dregs hit the face before him. Then, without second thought, tucked himself back in, buttoning himself fully and redoing his coat. 

Though it wasn’t in Kimblee’s nature to protest if it meant lowering himself, he couldn’t help the involuntary sound at the loss of the hot weight in his throat as Miles pulled out. Though the fact that it was replaced by the come that came quickly after, the thick warmth dripping down his cheeks, wasn’t an unwelcome delight. 

“Send your friends next time, if any of them are left.” The words came out in a purr, eyes glimmering up the other man, sharp at the edges. 

He didn’t even bother trying to dodge the punch that followed.


End file.
